


Tabula Rasa

by HeartOfTheMirror



Series: Well Shit, What Now? [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Blow Jobs, F/M, M/M, Meh, Mistaken Identity, There's a plot I swear, group amnesia, okay it might be mostly porn, stupid teenagers make mistakes that maybe end up being a good thing?, this isn't just porn, werewolf stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:32:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfTheMirror/pseuds/HeartOfTheMirror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a druid ritual goes wrong everyone loses their memories. As they struggle to stay alive they will make decisions that may drastically alter the way they see themselves should they remember who they really are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tabula Rasa

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit different from anything I've done before so I hope you guys like it! 
> 
> Thanks to the amazing help and encouragement of my dear friend Moirai, I have managed to complete this fic in just about a week. Without her enthusiasm I'm not sure if I would have ever completed it or if I would have let those first few paragraphs sit around and collect dust.

The branches of the great oak spread all-encompassing against the slowly awakening sky. It took him a moment to blink past the confusion and groan through a dull headache and cotton mouth, to realize that the world existed outside of the scope of the great oak's boughs. 

He touched his hand to his throbbing temple. His hair was short but still felt shaggy when he ran his fingers through it. Was it supposed to be shorter? 

He turned his head, pressing the side of his face in a cool pile of leaves. Off to his right, a Mexican boy and a redheaded girl were laying on the ground, cuddled together and fast asleep. Past his feet he could make out the vague outline of two more bodies buried in shadows. 

The snap of a branch and his whole body locked into stillness, high alert. 

A growl and he was pushing up on his palms in the dirt and the sticks, scrambling back on his elbows. Out of the shadows of the great oak a hulking figure, red eyes glowing against the dim mid-morning light. 

It sprang forward, a clawed hand curling in his t-shirt ripping five points of warning through thin cotton and so close to vulnerable, sensitive skin. The thing, the creature, loomed over him, baring its canine teeth rumbling low in its chest, a constant reminder lest the boy in its grasp forget for a moment and wonder if this thing had friendly intentions. 

It started leaning in towards his vulnerable, exposed, easy to snap neck and before he could think the boy's hand shot out to the creature's shoulder, holding it at bay. Roaring like a deeply emotionally disturbed lion, the thing's lip curled up, its nose scrunching in furry. 

“Hey there big fella,” the boy said, his voice only shaking a little bit. He gave the thing's massive muscled shoulder a couple little pats. “We're just gonna calm down for a minute here, alright? We're just gonna have a nice calm little chat in the middle of the woods... alone.” He swallowed thickly and the thing's eyes darted down to his throat. It leaned in and the boy closed his eyes. Nothing to do now but wait for the inevitable bloody end. 

It sniffed him, little snuffles and wolf-whiskers tickling the boys neck as he squirmed involuntarily under the attention and was pinned in place by gigantic but apparently harmless claws. 

Abruptly the thing went still, its head snapping to the right as the red-headed girl stood up off the ground, brushing leaves from her expensive skirt. 

“Oh don't mind me.” Her hands were only shaking a little bit. “Since it's obviously not possible for this to be happening I'm going to assume I must still dreaming. So you two can just scurry off or whatever. If this is my dream I'm going to enjoy it.”

“This isn't a dream,” came a soft haggard voice from the dirt by the girl's feet. The Mexican boy sat cross-legged clutching his head. “Or at least I don't think so.” His jaw line was kind of uneven, but he looked like the kind of kid that had a lot of things going for him. 

The creature crouching between the boy's splayed legs shifted and pushed the teenager behind him so that his furry, naked, rock fucking solid body shielded him from the others. 

The creature bared his teeth at the Mexican kid with a fresh wave of blinding rage.

“Dude, I think that guy's a werewolf!” he exclaimed, springing to his feet. The last two members of their party, two middle-aged men who hadn't yet come 'round, groaned and began moving, pushing themselves slowly to their feet. One of them was a sheriff. 

“Who _are_ you people?” the sheriff asked groggily. 

“We all need to remain calm,” The other man said. He was dark skinned with a well-groomed goatee, wearing a blue polo and khakis.

“I'm with that guy,” Stiles said, pointing at the sheriff. “Who are you people? Who am I? Where am I?” This round of questioning was met by a conspicuous silence. 

“In the woods,” the red-headed said with a sassy little smile. 

“Thank you, that's very helpful, thank you.” 

“Does anyone know how we got here or who we are?” the man in the polo asked. Everyone looked around at each other in expectant silence. 

“Alright, there's an easy way to solve this. IDs everyone,” the sheriff said. 

He patted down his jeans, making his werewolf bodyguard tilt his head to the side curiously but not take his eyes off of the others. When he finally fished out his license he stared at it in horror for five full seconds. Not only was the picture spaz-tastic but his name was absolutely unpronounceable. His school ID said his name was “Stiles” which must have been some kind of nickname because it bared no resemblance to the gibberish on his license, though the last name was the same.

“Stiles Stilinski,” he said aloud. “I go to Beacon Hills high school and I'm seventeen years old.” 

“Hey, I go there too! Maybe we're friends or something? I'm Scott.” The werewolf growled at the Mexican kid. 

“I don't think he likes that idea,” Stiles said, patting his werewolf on the shoulder. Scott looked kind of bummed. 

“Well I don't know how I feel about werewolves, as a sheriff, but I'm going to take a guess and say they're illegal. I can't just let some wild animal go around mauling people every full moon, now can I?” 

“Dude, I don't think the full moon has anything to do with it. I mean, look at him- it's daylight and he's all wolfed out and not mauling anyone,” Stiles said, feeling irritated and defensive of his werewolf.

"My name is Alan Deaton. My business cards say I'm a veterinarian." 

"That can't be a coincidence- a veterinarian and a werewolf? You two must know each other," Stiles guessed. 

“Can we all get back to the important thing, which is that I still don't know who I am? Apart from the sheriff's daughter,” the red-headed girl said. 

“What?” Stiles and Scott said simultaneously. 

“This jacket?” she said, plucking at the lapel. She was wearing the sheriff's jacket. “I'm obviously not the kind of girl who would wear something like this to accessorize. Concerned dads are always covering their daughters up. Clearly he has an issue with the way I dress,” Lydia shot a challenging look at the sheriff. “Or maybe it's just my boyfriend?” 

“Boyfriend?” the sheriff asked. 

“I woke up half sprawled on Scott. He's cute, he's built, we go to school together.” She glanced down at Scott appraising while he looked delightedly into space.

“I bet he rides a motorcycle. A fast one. I bet you hate his tattoo.”

“I'm not overly fond of it, no,” the sheriff said, eyeing Scott.

“Your boyfriend? Are you sure?” he asked, looking like a puppy who was being told he was going to get a MilkBone.

“I think the pressing issue here is our collective amnesia. This doesn't bode well with the fact that we're lost in the woods. We need to get back to civilization and see if we can find help somewhere. A hospital, maybe,” Deaton said. 

“I'm with him,” Scott echoed.

“Well that's great guys, really top notch plan you've got there. One small problem. Wolfman here is six-foot-something of naked man beast and he's been crouching over my groin for fifteen minutes with no sign of letting me stand up or like... leave.”

“You could just ask me,” a rough, disused voice said. When Stiles checked back on his furry lap guest he found a jaw so chiseled it could probably cut paper, manly stubble, and deeply annoyed bottomless dark eyes. 

“My god you're attractive,” Stiles said in an ill-advised bout of incredulous irrational anger at the universe. The man between his legs looked entirely too pleased with himself, and entirely to human to be chillin' so close to Stiles's family jewels without any kind of junk-coverage.

“You're my mate,” wolf-dude said, “of course you think I'm attractive.” 

“Do you mean mate in like, the British sense or...”

“No,” the unspeakably hot werewolf said flatly. “We can't trust these people. We're not going anywhere with them. Wolves that aren't pack can't be trusted.”

“Dude we don't have any memories. If we can't trust anyone, we're basically- wait, you're saying you aren't the only werewolf here?” 

“Doesn't matter. These woods feel familiar. I'm pretty sure I can get us back to our territory without them following.” The werewolf continued to glare at everyone else, who just seemed to be content to watch the free, if somewhat bizarre, entertainment.

“Can we get back to this whole 'mates' thing because honestly, I'm really not seeing it.” 

“I am,” the sheriff said. “You two are practically an old married couple.”

“Hey, who asked you?” Stiles said, feeling supremely irritated. 

“He's right. You have my scent all over you. You're drenched in my scent,” he tall dark and enragingly handsome said as if this were spine-tinglingly pleasing. “I woke up next to you. When I think about you I feel protective but you're not part of my pack and you're not family. I would be able to tell. We're obviously mates.”

“Dude, I don't even know your name!”

“Just call me Dale until we find out who I really am.”

“Dale?” Stiles said skeptically. 

“Shut up,” Dale bit back.

“Married. Couple,” the sheriff chimed in with one of his signature smirks. Stiles was privately glad that Dale looked as annoyed with the sheriff as he did. He'd hate to have to be nice to that asshole just to make his boyfriend happy. He didn't think he was the kind of boyfriend who would be happy to bite his tongue to please his partner. Not long term, at least.

“We've all got questions,” Deaton said calmly. “We need to go somewhere safe, or at least less exposed and-” he was interrupted by an arrow flying past the sheriff's head and digging into a tree. All eyes turned to it just as it exploded with a blinding flash of light. 

Stiles was dazed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Clawed hands grabbed him and dragged him to his feet, forcing him to run. Everything was off-balance, they knocked into trees, scraped through vegetation, running blind. Another arrow flew past, slicing open Dale's bicep before it dug in the tree and exploded in another brilliant flash. They knew enough to turn their heads away this time but Dale still seemed to be more affected than Stiles. 

“They're hunting you!” Stiles realized. 

“Need to get somewhere safe, need to hide,” Dale told him, letting Stiles guide him around a thick maple tree as they ran. Dale went stiff, grunted then lurched. With a thick chill of terror, Stiles knew that he'd been hit. 

He dragged Dale in an erratic zigzag through the trees, hoping to throw off the archer. A roar sounded from back the way they'd came and the arrows abruptly stopped raining down on them. Stiles didn't slow down, he didn't look back. Dale had to be seriously hurt or there was no way that Stiles would ever be able to outrun him.

“Where do we go?” Stiles screamed over his shoulder. “Come on Dale, use your super werewolf senses, where's our territory?” 

“Go left,” Dale grunted. He guided Stiles through the woods for what felt like hours until suddenly he yanked him to the side. Dale stuck his hand into a pile of fallen leaves and branches and pulled up a trap door that Stiles's human eyes could never have seen. They stumbled down the steps together, Dale collapsing on the hard packed ground as Stiles turned to close the trap door behind them. 

There were three black arrows sticking out of Dale's back. “Oh my god, okay, okay, what do I do Dale? Do I pull them out? Should I got for help?”

“No!” the werewolf pushed himself up to his hands and knees. “Don't leave. We don't know what's out there we've got to stay here for the night and heal. We'll try to get back to town in the morning. I don't think the hunters will come after us in public.”

“What about the others?” 

“There's nothing we can do for them now. Even if we could find them before the hunters killed us, even if we _can_ trust them... we have no idea what we're up against. I'm not going to put you in danger for them. We should just stay here and heal.”

“Speaking of healing, what should we do about these arrows. They don't look exactly comfortable.” 

“Pull them out,” Dale said through gritted teeth. Stiles took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes!” Dale sounded frustrated, and Stiles couldn't really blame him. Stiles gripped the first arrow with both hands. 

“On the count of three. One, two,” Stiles stopped counting and yanked the arrow out, trying to pull straight and not twist it in the process. 

“Fucking shit!” Dale screamed. 

“Alright, ready for number two?” Stiles asked, trying to keep his tone light despite the fact that he was yanking arrows out of his naked werewolf boyfriend in some kind of safe-house in the middle of the woods while they both had amnesia and people were trying to kill them. Like, what is his _life_? 

The next two arrows came out pretty quickly. Stiles took a moment to appreciate the fact that they were titanium, lightweight and deadly. Whoever was after them had resources. He was fairly certain that Dale wouldn't appreciate Stiles watching as he panted and composed himself.

Stiles set down the arrows and looked around their shelter. It was dusty, dark and oddly empty save for a charred dead tree in one corner. He turned to Dale, who was sprawled totally unabashed in his nudity beneath the dead tree. Now that he had time to look without fearing for his life he realized just how nice the view was. The man before him was made of tight muscle, smooth pale skin, with a trail of dark hair that lead to an impressive....mmm.

Stiles snapped his eyes up to Dale's, swallowing thickly, sure that his face was tomato red. Dale was smirking at him, the bastard. 

“Come here,” Dale said with a confident smile, leaning his back against the blackened trunk and spreading his legs. Stiles felt his mouth fall open a little as he walked over and sank to his knees. His heart was beating a painfully quick staccato, and from the way Dale's smile broadened Stiles knew he could hear it.

Dale reached out and grabbed the lapels of Stiles's open button down shirt and pulled them down his shoulders, stripping it off and throwing it aside. Stiles licked his lips, tensing as he self-consciously realized that, compared to the werewolf, he probably wouldn't be much to look at when his t-shirt came off. 

“Relax,” Dale whispered, letting his fingertips ghost over Stiles's wrists and up his newly exposed arms. “We don't have to do anything if you don't want to.” 

“And if I want to?” Stiles said, meeting his partner's rich dark eyes in a clear challenge. 

“Then we can do anything. Whatever you want,” Dale promised, letting his fingertips work a path back down over the thin vulnerable skin on the crooks of Stiles's arms, tracing along his veins back to his wrists, over his palms, tracing down his fingers. Stiles's breath hitched as his fingertips brushed over his partner's. Something so small, so simple, so staggeringly intimate and erotic. “What do you want?” Dale asked.

“Anything,” Stiles breathed, painfully honest. “Anything, just keep touching me.” 

Strong hands held him on either side of his hips. Fingers pushed tentatively up under the hem of his t-shirt, brushing against the warm skin there. 

“Like this?” Dale teased. 

“God, please, just please, for Christ's sake just-” Stiles was cut off as those calloused hands skid up his torso, drawing his shirt with them. Dale leaned in to kiss his bellybutton, sliding a warm wet tongue over it and making Stiles's hips buck involuntarily. 

Dale tore the shirt the rest of the way off and threw it aside. He drew the pad of one finger over Stile's left nipple and Stiles found himself grabbing onto Dale's shoulders just to stay upright. Who knew his body was so sensitive? God, it was like he was a desperate virgin or something. Were desperate virgins so easily affected by teeth playfully nibbling at their collarbones that they panted like they'd just run a marathon? Probably. 

Dale's hands slid around Stiles to cup his butt, giving it a firm squeeze and teasing at the inseam with just enough pressure. He leaned back against the tree trunk to undo Stiles's jeans and Stiles got his first look at Dale's erection- straining against the air, flushed and glistening with precome. Stiles licked his lips again subconsciously. Dale's eyes flicked between Stiles's mouth and his own cock. 

“You want to?” he asked. Stiles nodded, feeling a bit wobbly. He shuffled backward on his knees, resting his forearms on the dirt under Dale's bent legs and staring, wondering how he would fit the whole thing in his mouth. He pressed his lips against the head, letting his eyes flick up to where his partner was tense and enraptured, staring down at Stiles's mouth around his dick with unblinking attention. Stiles gave an experimental little suck that made Dale's leg twitch so he figured he was doing something right. He sank down a little lower and opened his jaw wider to lave at the shaft with his tongue. It was surprisingly intuitive to draw back and let the tip of his tongue run over the glans and then sink back down, taking as much as he comfortably could, which turned out to be most of it. 

He kept on like this for a few more seconds before Dale suddenly let out a strangled, “Enough!” and pulled him up, yanking him to Dale's lips and kissing him aggressively, like he was claiming territory. His lips and jaw were a little sore from attending to Dale's cock, but he couldn't say he minded in the least.

Dale slipped his hand in Stiles's open jeans and took his erection in hand, working him through the kiss. “Get those off,” he growled when they came up for air, and Stiles quickly kicked off his sneakers, socks, jeans and boxers. He spread himself out over Dale, hissing with pleasure as their cocks rubbed together. Dale took them both in hand and jerked them together as they both fucked into his fist. 

“God, D... oh nnnnggghhh, uh, fuck, shit, fuck, fuck,” Stiles chanted.

“Mmm,” Dale's growling agreement rumbled in Stiles's ear, reverberated up through his chest, sent him over the edge and suddenly he was coming blindingly hard, noticing vaguely that Dale was following after him. He slumped back on the sweaty pile of man beneath him, caught up in his partner's arms and totally content to be a sticky mess with him. Dale ran a hand through Stiles's short-ish hair and hummed a little. 

Stiles reflected that being a werewolf's mate was really not so bad once you got used to the idea.

...

“You're sure that all we have to do to get our memories back is meet under the tree again under the moonlight?” Scott asked Deaton. Ever since they had stumbled on their cars a few miles away and found Lydia's ID and a handwritten book of rituals in an old Latin dialect that only she and Deaton could read, they had been working on a game plan.

“That's what the ritual calls for, yes.” 

“I don't know, it all feels a little too easy to me,” Scott replied. 

“If it doesn't work we'll just have to try something else,” Lydia said. “I'm not going to let a little fucked up magic spell take years of my life from me. Not. Acceptable.”

“We've got to find the other two first and they could be lost anywhere in this godforsaken forest,” the sheriff reminded them. The sun was beginning to set. 

“Well we all know Scott's a werewolf so why don't we just have him sniff them out or something,” Lydia suggested, her tone very much implying that it was a terrible burden to be landed with people so slow. 

“I knew my kid would have to be incredibly intelligent as well as incredibly good looking,” the sheriff grinned. Lydia sidestepped away from him and let Scott throw his arm around her.

“I don't know if I can pick up the scent after so much time has passed. I'm not even sure I know what they smell like.” Scott looked apologetically at his girlfriend. 

“So howl,” she said as if it were the obvious next step. 

“What?” Scott said.

“Wolves howl to attract the rest of their pack. If you howl, odds are Dale and Stiles will come to us and we won't have to trample through the woods all night looking for them.” 

“Oh, wow, that's a great idea. I can't believe you're actually my girlfriend.” Scott smiled like a dope. The sheriff rolled his eyes dramatically. 

“I can,” Lydia said, pointedly undressing him with her eyes. 

“So earlier when you two disappeared in the woods for two hours, what exactly happened?” she sheriff asked. “Because I don't think it's that easy to get lost looking for firewood.” 

“Nothing,” Scott said immediately. Lydia just grinned and cocked her head to the side, expression implying that she had a secret she wasn't telling. 

…

“Put your clothes on,” Dale demanded, throwing Stiles's boxers at his face. 

“Well good morning to you too,” Stiles grumped. “It's not exactly like I'm _hideous_.” Dale rolled his eyes like it was his job.

“You're gorgeous. Even looking at your elbows makes me want to fuck you. Now put your clothes on. Scott's calling us." 

“You have a phone?” Stiles asked skeptically. “Where have you been keeping it?” Dale gave him a patently unamused look. 

“He's howling. He's a werewolf. He's calling me to meet him. Calling us probably.”

“My best friend's a werewolf?” Stiles said in total shock. 

“I doubt he's you best friend. He and I are both alphas. There's only one alpha per pack. Maybe our territory borders each other, maybe we're enemies, I don't know. This could be a trap.”

“But you think we should check it out anyway,” Stiles surmised. 

“One way or another we're connected,” Dale said. 

“I have a good feeling about Scott. I think he's an okay guy. One way or another we'll have to take a chance on somebody. It might as well be him. I mean, he's dating the sheriff's daughter for Christ's sake.” Dale shrugged. 

...

As soon as Dale stepped into sight of the others, who were clustered under the bough of the great oak, he had a feeling that he was about as safe as he was ever going to be. Stiles was standing at his side, closer to the trunk of the tree than he. 

“We're going to get our memories back,” Scott said earnestly. 

“How?” Dale asked. 

“Any second now,” Scott said, looking around at the tree as if he expected it to start glowing or something. 

“Hey, what's this?” Stiles asked, reaching out to touch the five-fold knot carved into the side of the tree. The second he made contact with it everyone jerked like a string pulled taught and then collapsed on the ground. They groaned and came to moments later. 

Stiles sat up first, clutching his aching head. His first thought was,

“What the fuck is Peter doing in my dad's uniform?!” 

“Relax brat,” Peter moaned. “He's fine. I needed the disguise. I'm sure you remember my outstanding little misunderstanding with the hunters. Thanks to tasks I had to perform to distract local law enforcement so that you and the other wonder kids could defeat the alpha pack. You practically owe me your life.”

“What, like you're expecting me to thank you now? Even if you claim it was unintentional, you still killed someone Peter. You've killed a lot of people actually, and we've been letting that slide but that doesn't mean I've forgotten. You're a killer, and a liar and a heartless manipulative bastard.” 

“Sorry,” Peter said, not sounding sorry at all. 

“If I found out you've hurt my dad in any way I'll kill you. For real this time.” 

“Stiles,” Scott said, looking absolutely confused. “Why do you smell like.... oh.” Scott and Stiles both immediately turned red and looked away from each other. Well, that was awkward.

Since no one seemed to want to fill the silence, Stiles let the hazy memories from just before the accident swim back to him. The alpha pack torched the Nemeton hoping to swat the Darach aside and use the added strife brought on Beacon Hills to pressure Derek and Scott into doing their bidding. 

Scott and Stiles convinced Derek, Issac and the others to attack as a unified front and together they had created and executed a plan to bring down the Alpha pack while minimizing the damage to the town. However, all was not kittens and roses even with the newest round of homicidal maniacs in the ground. After helping Scott defeat the alpha pack once and for all, Derek had been stuck in the form of a wolf. A large, beautiful black wolf, but a wolf all the same.

Deacon knew of a spell that could help him regain his human form, but first, they had to consecrate a new Nemeton, which had been a tricky business, involving rabbits and dancing, which Stiles would rather not think about even now. The spell required a human to hold him still inside the mountain ash circle, and as Allison was honor bound to her new-found hunt-mates to report Peter on sight, Stiles had been selected for the job. 

Lydia had left her jacket in the car. Peter had offered her his- she'd only accepted because technically it was the sheriff’s and not Peters. Something had gone wrong, there was a flash of light, Scott had jumped in front of Lydia to cover her but it didn't matter.

Stiles risked a glance at Derek, trying to gauge his reaction. When he looked away a half a second later he realized that he'd only given himself enough time to be certain of one thing.

Yeah, Derek was still naked.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really kind of nervous about posting this because it's the most sexually explicit thing I've written so far :/
> 
> I've been toying with an idea for a sequel but I think I'll hold off until I feel really solid about this one, if ever.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it anyway! Comments, kudos, questions, suggestions and reviews are always welcome!


End file.
